Changes
by InTheClouds773
Summary: Only one person would know what really happened.  Not until after a baby boy lived, not until after an ancient tournament was brought back to life, and not until after the defeat of one of the most powerful dark wizard to have ever lived.  DM/HG, HP/GW
1. Prologue

_**WARNING**_**: This chapter is very dark. I felt it was necessary in order to set the tone for later parts of the story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Prologue

_January 27__th__, 1979_

"No, thank you, mother. I'm nearly finished already unpacking. I appreciate the offer though. I'm actually in the middle of chopping some vegetables for a stew for lunch." Alexandria held the phone's receiver between her cheek and her shoulder as she stood with a knife in one hand and a carrot in the other. Setting the knife and carrot down on the cutting board in front of her, Alexandria sighed and took the receiver in her hand. "I've got to go now, though. My water's boiling, and I need to get these vegetables in. Goodbye."

Alexandria felt alone in the apartment, with her husband, Albert, away at a dental conference all weekend. If their landlord had allowed pets of any kind, Alexandria would have gladly gone to the local shelter and adopted a couple of feline friends to keep her company on days like today.

As evening fell, and the sky outside grew darker with each passing minute, Alexandria decided a long, hot bath would help pass the time faster. _Alice In Wonderland_ in hand, Alexandria let the hot water run for a moment before turning the cold handle halfway.

Shedding her clothes, Alexandria tested the water with her big toe, just to make sure it wasn't too hot. She sank her body into the water, her muscles automatically relaxing. She pulled her book off the counter next to the bathtub and began to read, losing herself in a world of rabbit holes, mad hatters, and overgrown talking caterpillars.

Six long chapters - not to mention nearly an hours' worth of time - Alexandria drained the bathtub of its contents, her day washing away with it. Donning her bathrobe that hung on the back of the bathroom wall, Alexandria crossed the small hallway into the bedroom, not noticing the tall dark figure standing in the darkened living room.

Alexandria pulled a pair of flannel pajamas out of the bottom drawer of her dresser and tossed the on the bed in front of her. As she untied her robe, she screamed as a gloved hand snaked its way around her face, covering her mouth. She felt another hand on her belly, pulling her backwards, pressing her backside into the man behind her.

She tried to scream, tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but the man behind her whispered in her ear. "Shh, shh, shh." His breath tickled her ear, and Alexandria began to cry. "I only need one thing from you. If you give it to me, I'll leave you be, and you'll never even remember I was here."

Alexandria fell forward onto the bed, having been pushed by this man, her arms pinned beneath her. She could feel the weight of his arm on her back, keeping her still despite her futile attempt to free herself. His hand gone from her mouth, Alexandria screamed. But he was too quick for her; he covered her mouth again. "I told you to be quiet. I want you awake for this; I want to see the fear on your face, hear the despair and the sorrow in your voice. I don't want to have resort to forcing you quiet."

She could see nothing but the bed, but she felt the man lift off of her slightly. She could hear him single-handedly removing his pants, and Alexandria struggled again. She didn't dare scream for fear of what he'd do to her.

Her attacker's voice startled her. "_Muffliato_," he muttered, the word sounding foreign to Alexandria's ears.

Her body jerked when she felt the man's hand on her thigh, pushing her robe upward, over her hips. She began to sob as she felt his legs wedge between hers, forcing her legs apart. She cried out in agony as he forced himself inside of her, pulling himself out and thrusting back in again. Over and over and over until finally she heard his breath falter, knowing he had finished.

She felt him stand, but she didn't move. She had been completely defeated. She felt his hands roll her over onto her back, her robe hanging open, exposing her body to him.

She stared sideways, keeping him only in her peripheral vision. She watched him pull a thin, light-colored stick from inside the strange robes he wore, and she continued to watch him carefully as he pointed it at her abdomen.

"_Impregia_," he muttered, a small flash of purple light emanating from the end of the stick pressed into her stomach. He pulled the stick back and laid his hand on her stomach. "Keep him safe. And I promise that you won't remember anything from this." He moved the stick to her forehead, pressing it into her temple. "_Impedimenta_," he whispered, a thick silver mist coming out of her head. He pulled a small vial out of his pocket and poured the substance into it, capping with a tiny cork.

Alexandria's eyes felt heavy, and she was growing dizzy. Her vision was fading quickly. "Goodbye, muggle wench. _Obliviate_!"

Alexandria woke with a start, water spilling over the edge of the bathtub. Rubbing her eyes, she rose from the bathtub and grabbed her robe from the back of the bathroom door. Going into her bedroom across the hall, she pulled a pair of flannel pajamas from the bottom drawer of her dresser. Climbing into bed, she opened her copy of _Alice In Wonderland_ again, losing herself in a world of rabbit holes, mad hatters, and overgrown talking caterpillars.

Her husband returned home two nights later. And every night for a week after his return, Albert made love to his newlywed wife, assuming one of these nights would be when they conceived the daughter Alexandria would give birth to on September 19th of that same year.

Only one person would know what happened the night Alexandria was attacked for many, many years. Not until after a baby boy lived, not until after an ancient tournament was brought back to life, and not until after the defeat of one of the most powerful dark wizard to have ever lived.

**A/N: If you've made it this far - Congratulations! Please review! And please let me know if I've made a mistake anywhere, with spells, names, dates, etc. If it's in there, I either overlooked it or just flat out got it wrong. Thanks so much in advance! :)**


	2. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter One

Hermione Granger sat at her desk in her office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic in London, wishing time to move just a bit faster. She was staring at a photo on her desk, one among many, of herself and her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, in their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had just been to Hogsmeade, the local all-wizarding town, and were on their way back to Hogwarts when they were stopped once again by Colin Creevey, a boy one year younger than the three of them.

Colin had been pestering them all day long to allow him to take a picture of them all together. He had been so fascinated with how the pictures moved after being developed, and he simply could not get over that joy. It was only to get him to stop bugging that they agreed.

A couple of days later, Colin handed them each a copy of the photo, each Harry, Hermione, and Ron moving around in their picture frames, waving, smiling, and occasionally throwing snowballs at one another. Hermione laughed as the black-and-white Harry picked up a hunk of snow and threw it into Ron's face.

Hermione replaced the picture, sighing with a bit of remorse at the picture. Colin had died in the war against Lord Voldermort only three years later.

She glanced at her clock, and began filing paper back in their appropriate folders, and placing said folders in her brown leather briefcase.

Her desk now rid of all of its contents from the day, Hermione went to the closet in her office and pulled out a garment bag. Inside was an adorable emerald green dress for the rehearsal dinner tonight. She smiled at the thought that Harry and his, for lack of a better term, high school sweetheart, Ginny Weasley (Ron's younger sister), were finally getting married.

They had finally made their feelings known for each other during the trio's sixth year at Hogwarts, but Harry didn't allow himself to fully fall in love with Ginny until after the war with Voldermort ended, and that was almost five years ago.

Hermione sighed. As happy as she was for Harry and Ginny, she couldn't help but be the tiniest bit jealous. She and Ron had been dating just as long, and he had yet to mention anything in the realm of long-term commitments. Not anything about an engagement, not anything about moving in together, and especially not anything to do with children.

She had come to the conclusion that after the wedding tomorrow afternoon, she would sit down with Ron and give him an ultimatum. She would give him two choices: make her his or lose her. That was it. No middle ground this time.

Checking to make sure her door was closed and securely locked, Hermione changed from her work robes into the emerald dress, placing her robes in the office's closet. Hermione picked her wand up from her desk and used a few quick charms to turn her bushy brown hair into soft, loose-flowing curls and covering her plain, freckled-nosed face in light, natural makeup.

Changing her shoes quickly, Hermione grabbed her briefcase and apparated from her office to her one-bedroom apartment in muggle London. Growing up in the muggle world had helped her make the final decision to rent there now that she was on her own.

Setting her briefcase on the kitchen table, Hermione checked herself one last time in a mirror before apparating once more.

"And I wish the two of you all the happiness and joy in the world!" Hermione said, bringing her maid of honor speech to a close, and she raised her champagne glass in the air. "To Harry and Ginny!" she added, the crowd in front following suit, and they all drank towards Harry and Ginny's good fortune.

Hermione sat back, and Ginny squeezed her hand. "Thank you so much, Hermione. That was beautiful."

Hermione listened as Ron gave his speech as best man. His words were emotional, and Hermione could have sworn she saw Harry swipe away at his eyes, thinking no one had noticed.

After the rehearsal dinner, Hermione apparated back to her apartment. It was almost nine o'clock, and Hermione was too wound up to fall asleep anytime soon. Grabbing her briefcase off of the table, she went into her bedroom to get to work on the papers she'd brought home with her.

Hermione hated this part about herself: the fact that she almost always brought her work home with her. She really disliked leaving loose ends at work, especially on the weekends, so she piled everything according to whom a complaint was made against and which creature or creatures it involved.

It was nearly three in the morning before Hermione called an end to her working, and it was only because she could no longer stifle her yawns. Staring at the clock, she punched some numbers in her head. If she fell asleep within fifteen minutes, which she normally did, she would be able to still squeeze in her eight hours' sleep before the wedding tomorrow.

Packing up her paperwork, she set her briefcase on the floor next to her bed, and crawled under the covers, her toes hitting against the large lump of fuzz on the end of her bed.

"Goodnight, Hercules," Hermione said. Hercules popped his head up long enough to look at Hermione and yawn.

Hermione swatted away the sandpaper tongue licking her hand; it was Hercules's attempt to wake her up. He did this every morning until she got up and let him outside. Rubbing her eyes with both hands, Hermione sighed.

"I'm up, Hercules," she said, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. Hercules jumped off the bed and hustled out of the room, the bell on his collar tinkling as he left.

Hermione shoved her feet into her pink slippers and followed the cat, who awaited her arrival on the windowsill, watching outside. He let out one long, drawn-out sound, something resembling a dying cow, and scratched at the window. His tail flicked back and forth, dangerously close to one of Hermione's potted plants.

"If you knock it over, Hercules, so help me God, I will swat you," she said, kneeling on the blanket box under the window. She cranked the window open wide enough for the brown cat to fit his wide body through. She watched him as he jumped down three flights of fire escape and down into the alley behind the apartment building before he disappeared around a corner. Where Hercules went Hermione never did find out, just as long as he was back inside before she left for work every morning.

Hermione went through what needed to be done that morning before she could leave for the Burrow, which was where Harry and Ginny's wedding would take place, as had so many in the past. She needed to shower, do her hair and makeup, and put on her ensemble.

Grabbing her bathrobe from her bedroom, she showered more efficiently than usual, shampooing and conditioning her hair, and using her tropical fruit-scented body wash, twice.

Despite her better-than-average skills with her wand, many times Hermione preferred to do her hair by hand. She sprayed her hair with an anti-frizz serum and ran a chemical relaxant into her brown locks, her hair tamed easily by the combination. Pulling the front of her hair to the back of her head, Hermione pinned her hair back with a golden, jewel-laden barrette that had been left to Hermione by her grandmother.

Unlike her skills in magic, Hermione had always lacked knowledge on makeup, so she used a quick spell to apply the same light, natural-looking makeup from the night before.

Donning her canary yellow bridesmaid's dress, Hermione pulled her strappy, crème-colored heels and matching crème-colored clutch out of her closet. To complete her look, she poked a pair of golden dangle earrings from her jewelry box into her ears.

Feeling completed, Hermione went to the window to call Hercules back inside, only to find him already there waiting for her. Contented with herself and how she looked, Hermione apparated from her apartment in London to the just in front of the Weasley's front porch. She could hear the workers already doing their job setting up for the wedding. Taking a deep breath, Hermione went inside.

**A/N: If you've made it this far - Congratulations! Please review! And please let me know if I've made a mistake anywhere, with spells, names, dates, etc. If it's in there, I either overlooked it or just flat out got it wrong. Thanks so much in advance! :)**


	3. Chapter Two

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Two

Hermione found Ginny quickly. Ginny was upstairs with her other two bridesmaids. Fleur, Ginny's sister-in-law, and Hermione and Ginny's mutual friend Luna Lovegood were in dresses that matched Hermione's own. Poor Ginny, herself, was still in her undergarments, waiting for her friends to help her into her gown.

Ginny's face lit up when she saw Hermione, and Hermione smiled. Ginny was radiant already, and she wasn't even anywhere near ready. The three bridesmaids set to work on Ginny's hair, combing it out and brushing it out, ending with an elegant but simple updo. Ginny's hair was pulled into a low-set bun, the hair around her face loosely pulled back into the bun. Fleur got to work on Ginny's makeup as she was the best with brushes and eye shadows and lip stain.

Hermione and Luna pulled Ginny's wedding gown from its garment bag. The dress was beautiful. It had a simple set waist, no extravagant rouging on the dress. The gown itself appeared strapless at first glance, but upon further inspection, one would see the lace covering the very top of the dress, creating straps that fell off Ginny's shoulders.

The four women were close to tears and giggling like children when a knock sounded on the door, causing Hermione to give a small scream in surprise. It was Ginny's mother, Molly. She took one look at her youngest child, and Molly began to cry softly.

"Oh! Molly! Yoo weel ruin your bew-tee-full makeup! Please, do not cry," Fleur said, pulling out a handkerchief for her mother-in-law.

"It's okay, Fleur. Thank you anyways, but I've charmed myself with tear-proof makeup this time! I remember what happened at your wedding and George's wedding! No more tear stains for this mother!" Molly said, hugging Fleur gently.

"Is everything ready, Mum?" Ginny asked, smoothing the front of her dress.

"Almost. Just one more thing." Mrs. Weasley walked over to her daughter and reached into her pocket, pulling out two small white-lace gloves. "I wore these on my wedding day, and I'd love it if you would wear them, Ginevra."

And then it happened. Ginny's eyes filled too far, and a single tear streamed down each cheek. Fleur gasped and pulled out her wand, magically fixing Ginny's makeup. All five women laughed, and Ginny took the gloves from her mother, putting one on each hand.

"Thank you so much, Mum," Ginny said, hugging her mother tightly.

Molly took her daughter's hand and, together, the five of them walked downstairs to where Ginny's father, Arthur, waited to walk his baby girl down the isle. Ron was waiting as well, along with Fleur's husband, Bill, and another friend from Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom.

Arthur pulled his daughter's arm through his and gave her hand a small pat. "Are you ready, Bean?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she answered.

Hermione took her place next to Ron, who tucked her arm into the crook of his. The song cueing the bridal party began, and Hermione watched as Luna and Neville started walking. Five seconds after them, Fleur and Bill began walking. Waiting another five seconds, Hermione and Ron took their first steps.

"You look very pretty, Hermione," Ron said, barely moving his lips.

Hermione remained smiling as she whispered a quick "Thank you." They had just reached the end of the carpeted aisle when the traditional _Here Comes the Bride_ song began to play on the enchanted piano. Everyone stood.

Ginny and Arthur turned the corner and everyone stared at them. Except Hermione. She was the only one looking at Harry. The look of purest joy on his face was almost indescribable. Harry was grinning wider than Hermione had even seen him. Hermione could tell that he was having great difficulty keeping himself from running towards Ginny, and she smiled at that. She so desperately wanted to see that on a man's face when she walked down an aisle just like this one some day.

Ginny made her way up to the front of the alter, where Arthur put Ginny's hand in Harry's, and the ceremony began. And - OH! - what an amazing ceremony it was.

And when it was over, and Harry and Ginny kissed for the first time as man and wife, everyone clapped, and everyone cried. And before she knew it, the chairs were being floated around tables and the carpet was being rolled up to reveal a gorgeous wooden floor that was clearly made for dancing on.

Hermione watched as Harry led Ginny into the middle of the dance floor. Harry spun her once as the music began before pulling her close; the couple danced as slowly as possible to this first song, drawing it out almost endlessly.

But finally it did end. And Ginny danced with her father next. It was adorable the way he twirled his baby girl on the dance floor. It was as if she were five years old again.

The bridal party was invited out onto the dance floor next, where they proceeded to dance the night away. Ron and Ginny taught Hermione and Harry a few wizard-world dances while Hermione and Harry taught them how to do a few muggle dances. They were quite a site doing the chicken dance and the Macarena.

Eventually, in the late hours of night, the crowd grew tired, and most of the guests left. Hermione stole the opportunity to get herself a drink, sitting by herself at an empty table.

And that's when Ron spotted Hermione, from across the dance floor, sitting all by herself.

**A/N: If you've made it this far - Congratulations! Please review! And please let me know if I've made a mistake anywhere, with spells, names, dates, etc. If it's in there, I either overlooked it or just flat out got it wrong. Thanks so much in advance! :)**


	4. Chapter Three

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Three

Ron flopped into the seat across the table Hermione sat at. She straightened herself in her chair as Ron rested his forearms on the table, leaning over them slightly.

"You wanna dance with me, Hermione?" he asked, a hopeful, half-drunken smile on his face.

"No, thank you, Ron," Hermione said, picking up her champagne glass and emptying its contents down her throat. Her glass refilled itself with her favorite white wine.

"Ah, come on, babe. I look like a fool out there dancing by myself," he whined. "You haven't danced with me all night except for the first bridal party dance, and I have a feeling that was only because Ginny weaseled you into it."

"I'm just tired right now, is all, Ron." Hermione took another sip of her wine.

"You've been a bit distant the few days. We haven't even spoken since Thursday. What's wrong, Hermione? Is it…you know: that time of the month?" he asked, causing Hermione to choke on the wine she was drinking.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not! And even if it was, it really would have nothing to do with whether or not I've spoken to you in a few days' time!"

"Oh. I just thought… Never mind then." The silence grew between them as the remaining party guests continued to dance together. Hermione was fairly certain Neville had had a few too many to drink. She laughed as he and Luna danced together. Luna looked as though she were trying to teach Neville the mating dance of the long-nosed pygmy pixie.

The seconds flew by, turning into minutes, and Hermione bit her bottom lip, knowing she had to speak fast before Ron decided getting her to dance was a lost cause.

"Ron, have you ever thought about getting married?" she asked, folding her hands together on the table.

"To you? Or to just anyone in general?"

"Either one really. I was just thinking about how long we've been dating, and we have yet to even discuss anything in the direction of marriage." Ron looked up at her.

"To be honest, Hermione, I have given it a great deal of thought." This surprised Hermione. "I've thought about it a lot lately, whether or not I wanted to ask you to marry me. And I've come to a huge realization about that, as a matter of fact."

Hermione's excitement got the better of herself when she noticed Ron sit up a bit straighter. Was this really it? Hermione was so sure Ron was finally going to ask her the big question that Hermione was quite literally on the edge of her seat, her hands spread out on the table in anticipation.

Hermione watched Ron as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box, inside which Hermione knew was a ring.

"I even went and bought this a couple of weeks ago. I've had it in my pocket, mulling over whether or not to give it to you." Hermione's heart sank just a bit at the tone behind his words. Ron slid the box across the table to her. Hermione opened the box to find an explicit diamond engagement ring.

She looked up at Ron, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "I can't ask you to marry me, Hermione. Not because I don't love you. I do love you, in a way. Just not in the way you deserve to be loved, Hermione."

"So it's one of those it's-not-you-it's-me things?" Hermione's tone was full of sarcasm. She slid the box back to Ron. And looked down at her hands.

"Hermione," he said softly. Hermione looked at him, annoyance written all over her face. "I'm gay."

Hermione's face fell fast, and she was sure the color had drained from it. Her hand instinctively shot up to her mouth, and she let out a small gasp of surprise.

"I've had these…feelings for quite some time now, and I thought I was going mad, honestly. So I pushed them away, but the feelings just kept coming back. And then as Harry and Ginny's wedding started drawing near, I figured it would be a pretty good time to get things together to ask you to marry me. But then I was in the store, and I was looking at the rings, and something was just off about the whole thing. But I bought the ring anyways. I've been wanting to talk to someone about how I feel for so long. I guess I'm finally drunk enough to let my guard down, huh?"

Hermione smiled. "You must not be if you can consciously comprehend letting your guard down." Hermione reached across the table and rested one of her hands on Ron's. "It's okay, you know… being gay. We're your friends, and we'll love you no matter what. And your mum and dad aren't going to care about whether you're gay or not."

"Thanks, Hermione. It means a ton that you're being so good about this. I was afraid you'd have taken it personally. You know, being one of those girls who 'turned a guy gay'."

"Oh, god! I am one of those girls, aren't I? I've turned you gay!" Ron laughed at her words.

"It's okay Hermione. That's sort of what helped me realize who I really was: if I couldn't love a woman as amazing as you, I wasn't going to love any woman." Hermione smiled at him. Ron stood and extended his hand to her. "Now come one. Let's dance."

Her spirits lifted along with the weight from her shoulders, Hermione took Ron's hand and followed him out onto the dance floor with the others. Together, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville danced together throughout the night.

The sun was peeking over the hills behind the Burrow when at last everyone was gone and the decorations taken down. The backyard was transformed back into nothing more than a vast, open field surrounded by tall weeds. The gnomes were scrambling back into the vegetable garden, sinking beneath the ground before the sun could reach them.

Hermione wished Harry and Ginny one last bit of happiness, said how wonderful it was to catch up with the Weasley's and their extended family, and gave Ron a hug for courage, knowing he would try to tell Arthur and Molly his news when all was completely quiet. Turning on the spot, Hermione apparated back to her apartment to find Hercules awaiting her return, his face peering out the window.

Hermione's head ached and her body screamed at her to sleep, so, giving in to herself, she took a sip of a hangover-curing potion she kept in her bathroom cupboard and fell into her bed still wearing her bridesmaid's dress and shoes.

Sleep fell upon Hermione quickly, and she dreamed of nothing that day, waking just as the sun was setting. Her headache was gone, and she was wide awake. Unfortunately, her sleep pattern would be thrown way off now, which meant Monday would be hell at work for her.

**A/N: I seem to be flying through this! Thanks to those who have reviewed. I'd like to give a special shout-out to Every-Rose-Has-A-Thorn for pointing out a few typos for me. My spell check isn't working the way it should be for some reason, even though I have these names in my AutoCorrect!**

**Bridesmaid's Dresses (in canary yellow):**

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**Hermione's Earrings:**

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**Ginny's Wedding Dress: **

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	5. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Four

Hermione spent much of Sunday evening and night finishing still more paperwork from the Ministry. She boiled a pot of water and made herself energizing tea throughout the night when her eyes began to droop. Her alarm sounded promptly at 6:30am, informing her it was time to get ready for work. Hermione showered away her weekend, the drumming of the hot water pounding the muscles in her back.

She clothed herself in a comfortable pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and soft black-and-white t-shirt. Slipping her feet into a cute pair of black patent heels, Hermione grabbed her briefcase and apparated to her office in the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione groaned as she was greeted by a four-foot high pile of papers on her desk, waiting to be filed. Emptying the papers from her briefcase into her completed bin, Hermione began the task of sorting through the enormous pile ahead of her.

By the end of her work day, Hermione had sorted all of the papers by order of whom the complaint was against, alphabetically of course. And for those people against which there were multiple complaints, she had filed each complaint within by order of creature type, again alphabetically of course.

She had maybe ten paper in her still-to-be-sorted pile, so Hermione put them in her briefcase to take home with her where she'd would finish sorting them.

Grabbing her work robes from her office closet, Hermione apparated back home where she let out Hercules outside, ate dinner by herself, and sorted more papers.

With a deep sigh after a long days' work, Hermione went to sleep, thinking about nothing. While her sleep the day before had been dreamless, Hermione's nighttime thoughts took her back to her years at Hogwarts, traveling through the halls, faces of old friends she'd made and lost along the way, her most favorite classes and her least favorite classes, the ghosts that provided much-needed entertainment in the houses and in the Great Hall…

By the workweek's end, Hermione had filed three more enormous piles of papers, which meant her quota would soon be met, at which time Hermione would begin the long process of interviewing those who filed complaints and those the complaints were made against. If the creatures were intelligent, like goblins or house-elves, she'd have to interview them as well; plus, she'd have to examine any who couldn't speak for themselves, such as the hippogriffs or the grindylows.

Hermione always dreaded this part, and only because it was so time-consuming. She sent an owl to the parties involved, and they either came to her office for the interview, or she met them somewhere. She usually only had to leave her office for those who ignored her letter.

Hermione rolled her neck and sighed. She had an entire unplanned weekend ahead of her, which she rarely ever had. Hermione magically shrunk the piles of papers strewn throughout her office, fitting them all neatly in her briefcase, took her work robes from her office closet, and apparated home. Hercules was waiting for her as usual, her life set in an unchanging rhythm.

Picking up the telephone receiver, Hermione dialed her parent's house. It was her mother who answered.

"Did you and Dad have any plans to visit your house in France this weekend?" she asked, biting her bottom lip slightly.

"No, not this weekend. It's all yours if you want it, Hermione." Hermione let out a sigh of relief and thanked her mother more than was necessary.

"Can I ask you another favor then? I need someone to take care of Hercules while I'm there. Would you have the time to come over and feed him until I get back Sunday evening?"

"I'm sorry. I won't have time to go over there. You can bring him here, though, if you want to. He can play with Violet. She'd love another cat to keep her busy."

"Thanks so much! I'll bring him over as soon as I'm done packing."

Hermione hung up the phone and packed with record speed, the thought of spending the weekend in France filling her head like wine. _Wine_. Hermione hadn't tasted a decent authentic French wine in quite some time. She made a mental note to pick up a few bottles.

After dropping Hercules at her mum and dad's house - he'd settled in within minutes, stealing a spot on the back of their couch - Hermione apparated into her parents home in France, the sounds from outside so different from what she was used to in London.

Hermione unpacked carefully, making sure everything was put in its appropriate place. Changing into her favorite little black dress, Hermione put her necessities into a small handbag, tucking her wand into a pocket hidden in the skirt of the dress.

Hermione wandered around the town looking for somewhere to eat dinner when she came across a small restaurant named _Pour Toujours_. She was seated within moments and provided with a menu immediately. Hermione decided on the house special, a roasted chicken served in their own unique marinate, not remembering when she had such a decadent meal.

Sunday evening brought with it the reminder of the long road in front of Hermione. She packed with ease, apparated to her parents to pick up Hercules, and was back home before she knew it.

She fell asleep easily enough that night, dreading tomorrow morning.

Hermione didn't have to worry about going in to the Ministry on days like these, when she actually dealt with the people and creatures involved with complaints.

It took her two weeks to get halfway through her list, and she was amazed at how smoothly things had gone thus far. She was eating her lunch, flipping through the next five complaints she had, writing down names and contact information on all parties involved when she read a name she thought she'd gotten away from a long time ago.

" 'Mister Gregory Goyle has been accused of illegally breeding and selling hippogriff offspring.' I should have figured I'd come across one of them eventually," Hermione thought aloud. "One never can truly get away from her past."

Finishing her lunch, Hermione made her way to her office at the Ministry of Magic. Leaving what papers she wouldn't need behind, Hermione found Goyle's location on the world map covering the entirety of the office's left side wall. With the Arctic Circle reaching the ceiling and Antarctica falling to the floor, Hermione found Goyle's location in Europe, lightly touched her finger where Goyle's house would be, and felt herself being pulled into the map.

The feeling was similar to that of apparating, and worked very much the same. The map in Hermione's office was rather handy for someone who didn't have prior knowledge of his or her destination. Simply touch the map and you'd be immediately taken to its real-world counterpart.

Hermione's feet touched ground, and she gathered her composure, Goyle's house within her sights. She took a deep breath, and began walking, holding her high, her Ministry robes swaying with each step.

**A/N: If you've made it this far - Congratulations! Please review! And please let me know if I've made a mistake anywhere, with spells, names, dates, etc. If it's in there, I either overlooked it or just flat out got it wrong. Thanks so much in advance! :)**


	6. Chapter Five

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Five

Hermione sat with Goyle at his dining room table, the file holding his name in front of her. Goyle looked nervous, his big, goonish hands folded in front of him on the table. Hermione sat straight up, her face looking at the paper in front of her.

"It has been brought to the attention of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic that you have been breeding a pair of hippogriffs and selling the produced offspring. The problem, Mr. Goyle, is that you have failed to file the appropriate paperwork for this to be legal. It is law that you must file for a permit to sell a baby hippogriff each and every time one is born that you do not intend to keep," Hermione said, looking up at Goyle at the end of her last sentence. "Have you or have you not been selling the baby hippogriffs in question, Mr. Goyle?"

"Oh, well, um," he stammered, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I have sold a few of the babies, yes."

"Did you file for, and receive, a permit for each baby hippogriff you sold, Mr. Goyle?"

"I wasn't aware I had to have a piece of paper saying I could sell them."

"As I said only a moment ago, Mr. Goyle: 'it is law that you must file for a permit to sell a baby hippogriff each and every time one is born that you do not intend to keep'."

"Oh. I guess that's not really so hard. I just go down to the Ministry, then, and they give me one?" he asked.

"If you fill out the paperwork properly, and whomever is looking over your request deems it allowable, yes."

"Oh," he said, staring at his hands. It was a long time before he spoke again. "I hope you don't hate me, Hermione."

"What do you mean, Mr. Goyle?" she asked, slightly stunned.

"I wasn't the nicest to you at Hogwarts. I was only doing what Malfoy did...because he seemed to know what was right."

"I think that's the closest thing to an apology as I'm ever going to hear from any Slytherin. Thank you, Mr. Goyle." Hermione let out a short laugh. "I figured it would be only a matter of time before you, and so many of your fellow Slytherins, realized Malfoy was dim-whitted and close-minded."

"People can change, Hermione Granger. I think you'd be surprised at the man Draco Malfoy is today," Goyle said, offering Hermione a half smile.

"I very much doubt that, but we're not here to discuss how much people have changed. Now, back to business if you don't mind. We have an eye witness who says they know of four hippogriff calves you've sold. Can you verify that you have sold at least four hippogriff calves within the last three years, Mr. Goyle?"

Goyle sighed. "Actually, it was five."

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Goyle. Can you tell me the names of who bought the calves from you?"

"I can if you give me a few moments. I've got everything written down: who I sold them to, how much each calf was sold for, and the date each calf was sold."

"That information would be greatly appreciated." Hermione watched as Goyle disappeared from the room, returning a few minutes later with a foot-long parchment sheet in-hand.

Hermione read over the sheet before pulling out her wand to magically duplicate it. "I made a copy for my own files; I suggest you keep the original." Goyle nodded in understanding. "Do you have anything else to add about this situation? Any thing you'd like the committee to know before I verify your paperwork and submit it?"

"I wouldn't have had to sell the hippogriff calves if I could have figured out a way to keep them from getting pregnant in the first place."

"There is a simple solution to that, you know. Contact Richard Jergins at the Ministry. He's another member in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He specializes in restricting the number of breeding creatures. He'll know how to help you."

"Richard Jergins?" Hermione nodded. "Thanks."

Hermione packed her papers into her briefcase and shook Goyle's hand (and found it surprisingly comforting, banishing her assumptions that it would rough and calloused).

"Thank you, Goyle. For your apology earlier. It was very nice of you. I guess people are capable of surprising you." Goyle gave her an assuring smile. "This is an awfully big house for just yourself; you aren't married?"

Goyle let go of Hermione hand and blushed, turning his head down, and smiling sheepishly.

"Nah, not yet. I haven't found that right person yet."

Hermione smiled at him. "Well, I'll be off then. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Goyle."

Hermione finished the remainder of her workweek, finding the weekend a much-welcomed comfort. She had very little to do come Saturday evening, and she quickly found her mind wandering to the past week. _People can _change. Goyle's words had stuck in Hermione's mind more than she'd expected them to, and she had to admit that almost everyone she knew _had_ changed to some extent.

Harry and Ginny had grown closer to one another and were now enjoying newlywed life together. Ron had...found himself, and most of his living older brothers had married and started their own families. Even Luna and Neville had changed: Neville had come out of his shell and was now training as Professor Sprout's apprentice; Neville would take over position as Herbology professor at Hogwarts when Professor Sprout retired in a few years' time. And Luna had found her niche: she had written several childrens books in which she used creatures such as crumple-horned snorkacks actually existed.

Hermione spent much of Saturday night trying to figure out how she had changed and whether or not they were good changes.

After several hours of wracking her brain, Hermione held a piece of parchment with very little on it.

One: She was a few years older, and she had gained a few years worth of wisdom with it. Two: She had nearly perfected her perfectionist qualities. Three: She had established a home for herself. Four: She had gotten herself an excellent job, one that she enjoyed, that could pay for the home she had established for herself. Five: …

There was no five. Hermione could think of nothing else to put on that piece of paper. Nothing significant had changed about herself since Hogwarts. Hermione sighed. That needed to change. She needed more than just a weekend to reevaluate her life and figure out who she was now that she was no longer the smartest witch at Hogwarts.

At work Monday morning, Hermione received a letter from Harry and Ginny, regaling how much fun they had had crossing Europe like muggles. Harry had taught Ginny how to recognize and count muggle money, and they had a blast traveling from country to country by themselves. Inside the envelope was a photo of Harry and Ginny, unmoving, underneath the Eiffel tower in Paris. Ginny wrote in her letter how she was amazed that the people stayed stationary, never moving no matter how much time went by.

Ginny added a small message after the salutation, thanking Hermione for the wedding present she'd given them, and inviting her over any time for supper.

Hermione smiled to herself before pulling out a long parchment form and filling in the necessary fields to request an extended amount of time off from work. She'd need to give her superiors at least a week's head notice so they could find a temporary replacement for her.

While Hermione was making plans for the very near future, and thinking about how much she needed this trip, somewhere else, someone else was having very similar thoughts...

**A/N: Another new chapter! Sorry it took longer than the rest. Home issues will take up a lot of ones time. Many of you who have reviewed and wondered where Draco comes in to play in this story. I have only one answer: the very next chapter! Lol Hopefully you saw this coming and I didn't just ruin the surprise! I hope you're willing to bear with me, too, as I really have no plan for my chapters; they just sort of roll out of my fingertips as I type.**

**OH! And please, review!**


	7. Chapter Six

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Six

Draco Malfoy sighed, leaning back in the chair outside a small cafe outside of Paris. He'd gotten quite used to this muggle cafe and its delicious caffeinated drinks. He'd found this place one day, soon after moving to France, and he'd come here once a week ever since.

Draco sipped his foamy mocha cappuccino as he watched the muggles around him mingle with one another and go about their daily business, unaware of his world and the magic that surrounded him. Occasionally, Draco would see a man or woman dressed oddly, and he would nod at them, their eye contact expressing a silent wizarding greeting.

Draining the contents of his cup, Draco left a small tip for the waiter, and wandered towards home. As he came into view of his home, nestled amongst normal, muggle dwellings, a small boy darted out from the townhouse, wrapping his short arms as far around Draco's waist as he possibly could, his hands not quite meeting behind Draco's back.

"Hello, Scorpius. Did you behave yourself for grandma?" Draco asked, a wide grin on the boy's face.

"Only most of the time!" Scorpius said, a wide grin on his small face.

" 'Only most of the time'? How were you the rest of the time?" Draco asked, looking into his son's eyes.

"Mischievous!" the boy said, turning and running back into the house. Draco smiled and shook his head, following his son into the house. Scorpius had learned that word from his tutor the day before, and he used as often as possible. Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for Draco just inside the door, her head held a bit high, and small smile on her face.

Narcissa's hair had grayed in the few years since Draco had left Hogwarts. Draco figured much of the gray hair was due to the Malfoys' involvement in the war, their status among other wizards very stressful.

"He said he was 'mischievous.' I hope he wasn't too rotten," Draco said, kissing his mother's cheek softly.

"Of course not. He only had a run-in with the cat. He tried to levitate the poor girl, claiming he had learned the charm from you. He almost had the cat to the ceiling before the poor creature realized what was happening. She freaked, and then he freaked, and before I knew it, she was running out of the house faster than anything I'd ever seen."

"He knows better than to levitate the cat. I'll talk to him."

"He's no more rotten than you were at that age. If I remember correctly, at three years old, you were racing around the manor on your father's old broom! And there was nothing I could do to stop _you_." Narcissa smiled at her son. "I must be off now. Your father's got a meeting of some kind that I simply MUST be present at." And with that, Narcissa Malfoy apparated from her son's home and back to her own.

Draco took a deep breath and went to find his son. He found Scorpius playing in his bedroom with a an enchanted race car set. Using his wand, Scorpius's cars were zooming around the room, across the tiled floor, up the walls, and over every other visible surface.

"You know you're not supposed to be doing that. You're only allowed to use your new wand when I'm home," Draco said, leaning against the door frame to his son's bedroom.

"But Grandma said it would be okay," Scorpius said, his cars coming to a screeching halt at his father's feet. Draco bent down and picked them up.

"Only because you're charismatic ways convinced her. You're too much like myself. Words will get you far in this world, little man. Come here." Scorpius stood and went to his father; Draco scooped him up and carried him into the living room.

"We've got a long day ahead of us. What do you say to heading in to Paris and having a look around?" Scorpius's eyes grew wide, almost as wide as the smile on his face.

After tucking Scorpius into bed that evening, Draco found himself wandering the house, bored out of his mind. A few years ago, he would have simply apparated wherever he wanted to go, whenever he wanted to. But things had changed.

Less than a year after Voldermort's fall, Draco's parents went into seclusion, afraid of the public and what they would do to the few existing followers Voldermort had had; however, Draco had chosen not to become a hermit.

He found himself traveling Europe, ending up in France, learning different sorts of magic, learning how magic changed from culture to culture, country to country. He had just arrived in France, looking for a place to stay, when he met a young French native.

Her English was flawless, but her accent shone through, not that she wanted to hide it. Her name was Astoria Greengrass, and Draco had never seen anything like her in his life. She wasn't the most beautiful of women, and she wasn't the most talented of witches, but Draco found himself falling in love with her with every sunset.

Draco and Astoria lost themselves in each other every chance they got, until one day Astoria told Draco she was leaving. He could recall the conversation as if it only happened yesterday.

"_You're leaving?" he asked, his tone filled with heartbreak._

"_Eet was only a matter of time, Draco, dear," she said. "We had fun with each other, but eet's not like we were in love." She laughed until she saw Draco's expression fall. "Oh. You thought... Oh, dear. Draco, we never discussed what we had as anything more than a passion-filled fling."_

"_You didn't exactly make it seem like that when I told you I loved you. And you said it back. Did that mean nothing to you?"_

"_Draco, Draco, Draco. Thees is France! We say it to EVERYONE! I tell my butcher that I love him every time I pick up a nice piece of meat!"_

"_We don't just toss the expression around for the hell of it where I come from, Astoria. It would have been nice if you had had the common decency to explain this a few weeks ago!"_

She left the next morning. She packed everything up, and left, returning to her hometown, several hours south of Paris. He heard nothing from her for almost a year, until she showed up at the home he'd made for himself only five minutes north of Paris.

She said she couldn't stay long, that she only came for one reason. She handed him a sleeping infant, bundled in a blue, hand-knitted blanket. Astoria said she couldn't take care of their son, and that if Draco didn't take the child, she would have no choice but to put the baby boy in an orphanage. Draco stared down at the baby in his arms. One tiny hand stuck out from the top of the blanket, and Draco, cradling his infant son, wrapped the baby's tiny finger around one of this own long pale fingers.

The baby stirred slightly, a small whimper sounding from the child. When Draco looked up, Astoria was gone. Draco took the baby inside, cradling his son for hours while the baby slept, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

When the baby woke, he began to fuss. Draco, unwrapped the baby from the blanket, a small, folded sheet of parchment falling to the floor. Holding the baby tightly, Draco bent to pick up the paper, unfolding it with one hand. It said very little, and the only truly helpful information on it was that Astoria had named the baby Scorpius.

Draco let the paper fall to the floor again, gently rocking the baby on his shoulder. Not knowing what to do, Draco apparated to his parent's home, his mother's shock hidden as she sprang into maternal mode.

By the end of that same week, Draco's life had been completely rearranged for his new son. He'd turned his house from a house fit for a single man to one for a family. He worked during the day, his mother taking care of Scorpius while Draco was gone. Draco took great care of his son when he was home, guiding the baby in taking his first steps, ears listening when Scorpius uttered his first word.

And when the boy turned three, only four months ago, Draco took his son to the magic world of Diagon Alley, where the young boy watched everything with wide eyes, amazed at everything he saw that he'd never seen his short lifetime. Here, Draco took Scorpius to Covair's, the newly-constructed wand shop, set in place where Ollivander's used to be after the old wand-maker's retirement. Scorpius was awestruck when he found the perfect wand, mesmerized when the ten-inch cedar wand (with a Centaur tail-hair core) "chose" him.

Draco listened to the quiet of his house. Sighing, he went into the living room. After browsing his over-sized bookshelf, Draco pulled out _Quidditch Throughout the Years_, a gift his mother had given him several years ago.

**A/N: Hopefully you've enjoyed this new chapter! Please review whether or not you liked it! The next chapter will be up as soon as I'm done with it! :)**


	8. Chapter Seven

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Seven

Draco was grateful that his mother was so quick to offer her babysitting services; he need a night to himself. Scorpius had packed his own bag in a rush, exclaiming to his father everything he wanted to do while at Grandma and Grandpa's house. It's a good thing Draco checked his son's bag; it held nothing but the child's toys and toothbrush – no toothpaste, of course, because Scorpius hated to actually brush his teeth. Smiling to himself, Draco emptied the bag's contents, refilling it with pajamas, two changes of clothes (just in case), toothbrush AND toothpaste, Scorpius's security blanket, and a few of the toys that were heaped on the bed.

After dropping Scorpius off with Narcissa and Lucius, Draco apparated himself back home where he changed into clothes befitting of an evening to himself. After dining at one of the town's smallest family-owned restaurants, Draco joined a group of muggles to watch a French film in a crowded open square. The old, black-and-white film was projected on the side of an ancient five-story building.

Draco bought a small bag of popcorn from a street vendor who moved so carefully and quickly through the crowds that the vendor disappeared before Draco could even take his first bite. Draco's knowledge of the French language was adequate enough for him to understand the entirely-French movie, no English subtitles provided.

After the movie, Draco contented himself with wandering the French streets. He'd lived here for just over four years now, and he could still find something new to discover about the town he lived in or about Paris, the town's larger southern neighbor.

The weather wasn't anywhere near cold, but the seasons were beginning their slow change from summer to autumn. The leaves on the trees weren't losing their color completely, but he spotted one or two leaves amongst the green that had reddish or yellowing edges. It wouldn't be long before slush and snow covered the streets and land. Halloween had become popular in France's larger cities, like Paris, but it hadn't reached the village he and his son lived in, which was fine with him. Draco was not comfortable taking his son to people's homes, asking for candy and other treats.

Draco was home well before midnight that evening. The cat, whom he had named Calumina, was curled up on the sofa. She had found her way into their home a year ago, by some odd chance. Calumina had showed up in their backyard one day, and two-year-old Scorpius was fascinated with her. When Draco tried to shoo her away, Scorpius cried, not stopping until Draco allowed the cat inside. And she'd been part of their small family ever since.

Calumina's head popped up from inside her small circled body, and she hopped off the sofa, stretching every inch of her body, her shoulders low and her tail high in the air. Her sleep-filled eyes blinked at him, and she yawned, moving towards the door.

"Go, cat. Find your friends," Draco said, holding the door open until Calumina had disappeared into the yard behind his house. Most of Draco's friends had fled Europe after Voldermort's fall, and none of those remaining had moved into the northern countries, away from where he was. He still spoke to one of his childhood comrades weekly, but he doubted Goyle would want to wake up in the middle of the night with no plans in place.

Goyle had taken over his father's farm (of sorts) when Goyle's father was sent to Azkaban after Voldermort's fall. Goyle was on a strict "rise with the sun and set with the sun" schedule, which meant it was a rarity for Goyle to stay away from home passed ten o'clock on any given night.

Finding nothing productive to do with his time, Draco called it a night, his dreams filled with memories from his past. In his mind, he roamed the halls of Hogwarts, floating much like the ghosts of the castle, traveling down the portrait- and painting-covered corridors, peeking inside all of his old classrooms; his tour finally ended in front of the library, where he became less of a watchful spirit and more of a solid memory. The dream itself became more...interactive, more like a memory than a dream, even though Draco knew he had no memory of what he was doing in the dream.

Draco entered the library, Madame Pince looking at him over her wire-rimmed glasses, narrowing her eyes at him before turning her attention to a book on the counter in front of her. Draco felt his feet move him forward, and he was helpless to stop himself. He walked determinedly passed the rows of bookshelves, all empty. He began to wonder if there was even anyone else in the library besides Madame Pince and himself.

He was nearly in the restricted section when his feet turned a sharp right, where his eyes met the back of a brown-haired girl with her head bent forward. He could see the table in front of her was covered with huge, leather-bound books. He stopped next to her, and she turned her face upwards, peering into his eyes. She smiled.

Draco could feel his subconscious face smiling back, even though his fully-conscious mind wondered why he was meeting Hermione Granger in the library. When she stood, Draco felt himself pull her towards him, his arms wrapping around her, embracing her softly.

"I've been waiting for you," Hermione whispered, sliding one of her hands sliding up to Draco's face, pulling him into a slow, sweet kiss, their lips barely touching. Draco felt Hermione's mouth pull away slightly, only to have her nibble his bottom lip, her hand still resting on his face.

Draco deepened their kiss, pulling Hermione closer to himself, his tongue delving in her mouth. He felt Hermione nudge him backward against the table. She pulled her face from his and pushed him all the way back onto the table, laying herself over him. Letting her long brown hair fall like a curtain, Hermione kissed him hard, her hand cupping Draco's face.

Draco felt Hermione's nails push into his face. He pulled his face away from hers, a finding a wicked smile on her face. The hand on Draco's face felt strange, not like a human hand. He pulled it away from his, but Hermione was quick, stroking his cheek playfully. Hermione leaned over Draco, a strange noise emitting from her throat. Draco's face contorted in confusion.

Hermione was..._purring_. Sitting up straight, Draco focused his eyes on Hermione, whose face had changed slightly. Her hair was changing to an orange color, and whiskers had sprang from her cheeks. A strange sensation shot down his spine when Hermione leaned forward to lick his face, her tongue feeling like sandpaper.

Pushing Hermione off of himself, Draco sat up, his bedroom coming back into focus. Calumina sat on the bed next to him, her tail flicking back and forth playfully. Confused about this strange dream, Draco let the cat outside. Staring at the clock on wall in the foyer, he noted that it was already after 8:00 A.M. He'd slept restlessly for over eight solid hours.

Showering and dressing quickly, Draco made himself breakfast, enjoying scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice slowly.

"The same Hermione Granger who was in love with Potter?" Lucius asked, sitting stiffly in the leather chair in his study.

"The very same," Draco answered. He paced his father's study slowly, hands in his pockets, trying to figure out why he would have been dreaming about _her_.

Every wall of the study was lined with shelving units, each bookshelf packed with books. Between two bookshelves, against the farthest wall, was a marble fireplace, flames flickering softly despite the fact that the house wasn't cold. The desk in the middle of the room was uncluttered, his father sitting behind it, one leg crossed over the other, his head resting on the fingertips of one hand. A decorative display cabinet was nestled between another set of bookshelves, some of his father's most prized possessions locked inside.

"Why would you be dreaming about kissing _her_? The two of you despise each other," Lucius said, pointing out the most obvious thing about Draco. Or Hermione, for that matter.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out myself. I haven't thought about her since before the war ended, since we were all fighting to get out of that castle alive."

"Perhaps your subconscious was simply trying to remind you that you can do far better than her, that you will never have to settle with someone like her."

"Perhaps," Draco said, making his way over to the cabinet. A small glass vial sat amongst other objects, a blue misty liquid within. Draco felt this would be an excellent time to drop the previous subject, and asked his father, "Did you ever make any sort of progress with this memory?"

"Oh, that? No. None of the male muggle-borns who actually submitted themselves for blood testing when we infiltrated the Ministry met the criteria. And those who didn't couldn't possibly have matched what we were looking for."

"I remember that memory. It was horrible, even if it belonged to Voldermort. He did things that shocked everyone, but that memory has to be the worst I've ever seen from anyone."

"I guess we'll never who the muggle woman was. It doesn't really matter anymore. Voldermort will never know who his son is. It's a shame, too. The boy would have to be one of the most powerful wizards. You're sure not one boy in your year was ever greatly skilled? He wouldn't have had to have been in Slytherin, but I'm sure the hat would have placed him there."

"Not that I could have logically pin-pointed. Potter was probably the most skilled, but we know it wasn't him. There were some who were decent wizards – _good _wizards even – but no one who could have been Voldermort's son."

"That's why I stopped looking. Perhaps the muggle woman moved. They may have went somewhere far enough away that the boy never graced the halls of Hogwarts."

"Maybe..." Draco's voiced trailed off. Outside the study, he could hear the voice of a three-year-old growing louder until finally Draco saw his son bound through the door. Scorpius ran over and threw his arms around his father's legs, clasping his small hands behind them.

"Look, Daddy! Now you've got a leg-locking jinx on you! You can't move at all!" Scorpius yelled.

"Oh! Will you look at this! Someone's taken away my ability to walk! Does anyone know the cure to a leg-locking jinx?" he asked, Scorpius giggling into Draco's legs.

"I do," Narcissa exclaimed as she walked into the study next. "You must tickle the jinx away."

"Is that all?" Draco asked playfully. He bent forward and grabbed his son at the waist, tickling Scorpius until he laughed so loudly, the sound reverberated throughout the entire manor.

Narcissa laughed as her grandson finally let go of Draco's legs. "See? I told you that would work."

Draco hoisted Scorpius's body over his shoulder, the boy's head hanging over his back. "I'll just be off then. I've got to dispose of this little pest of a leg-lock jinx."

"No, Daddy! It's not really a jinx! It's only me, Scorpius!" the boy laughed, his face flushed.

"Whoa! Where did you come from?" Draco asked, setting Scorpius back on the ground.

"I've been here the whole time!" Scorpius exclaimed. "I was only pretending to be a jinx!"

"You stinker! You fooled me into thinking you really were a jinx!" Draco and Scorpius were both laughing, and Narcissa smiled at the two of them.

Lucius rose from his chair behind the desk. "Do you really think it necessary to be doing that in _here_? That kind of play is reserved for outside I should think?"

Draco's laughing stopped, and Scorpius hid slightly behind Draco's legs. "Grandpa's right, Scorpius," Draco said, shooting his father a glare. "We should be leaving anyways. We need to get back home."

"Come on, dear. I'll see you off," Narcissa said, motioning into the hallway.

Lucius said nothing as Draco, Scorpius, and Narcissa left his study. As soon as they were out of earshot, Lucius went to the cabinet and pulled the blue memory from inside. Pocketing the vial, Lucius went to the third bookshelf against the far left wall. Locating a faded green book whose binding had become tattered, he pulled the book out, the bookshelf sliding outward like a door.

Behind the bookshelf was a hidden room that not even his wife knew about. He'd opted for this room when he and Narcissa built the manor several decades before, a room in which he could escape from the rest of the world. The hidden door closed behind him. Off to the side against a wall stood a table, on top of which was a pensive. Pulling the vial from his pocket, Lucius poured the memory into the pensive.

Dipping his head into the pensive, he watched the memory of the muggle woman's attack, his body becoming aroused with each passing second, with each cry from the muggle woman's mouth.

Some would say he was a sick man, watching this memory over and over the way he did. Lucius, however, would call the people who said that crazy, for this was the only way he could arouse himself. His body needed release, and when the memory ended, and his body was aching and pulsing with need, he left the room to find his wife.

Luring her into their bedroom, he made violent love to her. And when he was finished, he left her, going back into his secret room to retrieve the memory, replacing it in the cabinet/

Narcissa cried into the pillows on the bed when her husband left; she cried every time he made love to her this way. She hadn't known sincere passion from her husband for many, many years now. She always put on a show when her son and grandson were here, but Narcissa failed to hide her feelings now. Her heart sank low into her chest, and she sobbed for a long time before finally drying her eyes and dressing once again.

When she made her way downstairs, Lucius was gone. Where, she had no idea.


	9. Chapter Eight

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Eight

Draco and his son spent most of Sunday at a local park, where Scorpius ran around with other children his own age, joining in muggle games like soccer, where one kicked around a black and white ball, and tag, in which the children ran from someone called "It."

By the end of the day, Scorpius had run himself tired, and it was all Draco could do to get his son to eat dinner before falling asleep. Draco tucked Scorpius into bed and made his way into the living room, where he found an owl waiting for him, a small scroll of parchment attached to the bird's leg.

The small note was from one of Draco's unofficial bosses, editor of the _Quibbler_, asking him to locate and interview one of the two heads of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic. The editor, Xenophilius Lovegood, was an old coot, and he claimed to know that someone had filed papers about the rare crumpled-horned snorkack, and Mr. Lovegood insisted that Draco contact the Ministry about this.

Draco accepted, knowing that these 'crumpled-horned snorkacks' didn't really exist. But he also knew that whether or not he found anything out, Mr. Lovegood would pay him something. Draco had been blessed with a hefty trust fund, which he was allowed access to when he turned seventeen, so he didn't actually _have_ to work. Draco chose to work because it gave him something to do from time to time.

Draco worked with several wizarding newspapers in both England and France, but his favorite paper to write for was the _Quibbler_ by far. He could literally write whatever he wanted to about any made-up creature he could think of, and he'd not only have it published, but he'd get paid for it, too.

And Xenophilius Lovegood was a good man. Batshit crazy at times, but good nonetheless.

Draco jotted down an acceptance to Mr. Lovegood's request. He would have to set a day to go back to London for the day. He could take Scorpius with him, but he doubted the child would have much fun at the Ministry of Magic.

The owl from Mr. Lovegood hooted gently at Draco, as if insisting he be rewarded in some way for delivering the message.

"I'm sorry, Owl. I don't have any owl treats right now." The bird hooted again, turning his head in ignorance, even though Draco knew the bird understood him. Draco heard Calumina meow from outside, and he thought quickly. "Give me a minute, Owl." Going out into the yard, Draco found the cat. "Go catch a mouse as quickly as you can, Mina. It's for an owl from the Ministry in London." The cat whispered a meow and trotted away in search of her prey.

Five minutes later, while waiting in the kitchen, the owl sitting on a counter, Draco watched Calumina prancing back to the house, a dead mouse dangling in her jaw. He turned to the owl.

"That mouse she's got is for you, Owl, but only if you take a message to my mother, Narcissa Malfoy, before you go back to the Ministry." The owl hooted at him once, almost smiling, and stuck his foot out in acceptance of Draco's letter. Calumina jumped onto the counter, the mouse hanging lifeless. Draco pulled a plate out of the cupboard, and Calumina dropped the mouse onto it, the owl picking at it immediately.

"Gross," Draco said, leaving the cat and the owl to themselves.

Narcissa agreed almost instantly to watch her grandson on Wednesday, the day Draco had decided to go to the Ministry of Magic in London. He'd used one of his father's golden Ministry coins, walked into the mens' toilets without notice, and flushed himself into the Ministry of Magic, welcoming the noise of the bustling underground building.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to pinpoint and navigate to the offices for the two people working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Richard Jergins, whom Draco had been referred to by the Ministry's guest services receptionist, was out on duty and not expected back in until the next day. Across the empty waiting room from Richard Jergins's office was the office of Hermione Granger, the second officer in that department.

Draco crossed the silent waiting room in under ten seconds, knocking on the door with the nameplate reading "Hermione Granger." There was no answer. Waiting half a minute, Draco knocked again. Still no answer. Draco assumed she must have been in the field as well. Leaving the waiting room, Draco went back down to the guest services receptionist at the Ministry's entrance.

"She's taken a sabbatical, sir. She won't be back until the beginning of September next year. We're working on finding a temporary replacement for Miss Granger, and we expect to have one within the week. I'm sorry for this inconvenience, sir," the receptionist said, her constant smile never faltering.

"Thanks, I guess," he said, trying to figure out what to do next. Something irked him. "Do you never stop smiling?" he asked.

"Not at work, sir," she responded. "I could lose my job if I'm not friendly enough, so I've charmed my face to not stop smiling while I'm at work. And in response to your next question, yes, my face hurts like hell when I remove the charm."

Draco laughed. "Try using a relaxing charm on your face before you removed the smiling charm. It'll relax the muscles in your face so they'll be lax when you remove the smiling charm."

"I've never thought of that before. Thanks so much!" she exclaimed, her smile growing a bit.

"No problem. I went to school with someone who tried the same thing with her summer job. She found relaxing her face first really helped."

"You have yourself a wonderful day, sir!" she said.

"You, too." Draco left the Ministry, apparating from the bathroom stall he was transferred to on exit.

"So much for that," he said to himself. Narcissa and Scorpius were still gone when he returned home, and he wasn't surprised. Narcissa had taken Scorpius to Hogsmeade, and Draco knew Scorpius would lose himself in the vast array of shops Hogsmeade held.

Draco found Calumina in the backyard, laying in the sun's rays, a fat brown tabby cat next to her. Draco did not want another cat. He'd grown to love Calumina, but he did not need another cat shedding hair all over his house. Not to mention the kittens they were bound to have.

Walking outside, he attempted to shoo the male cat away, but the cat did not budge. It wasn't until he tried picking the cat up that he noticed the cat had a blue collar around his neck. Attached to the collar was a bell and a license with the name _Hercules_ on it.

"Well, you are definitely big enough to be named Hercules," Draco said to the cat. "Now I just need to figure out where you came from."

Cradling the brown cat in his arms, Draco went around the side of the house towards the old cobble street. That's when he heard her voice, calling out the cat's name.

**A/N: Who's voice is that, you may ask? Well assume away because I'm NOT going to tell you! Lol I'm sure it's more than a little obvious, but then again, it might not be, only because that'd be TOO obvious. Now you're questioning your assumption, aren't you? Yupp. I knew you were.**

**I'll update as soon as possible. Thanks for the reviews! Please keep them coming!**


	10. Chapter Nine

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Nine

Draco heard the voice, and he knew instantly who it belonged to.

"Hercules!" she yelled, her voice worried but not quite frantic. She was on the opposite side of the road, searching yards as she walked passed them. "Hercules, you dumb cat, where in god's name are you?"

Draco stood by the road, Hermione Granger's figure growing larger as she approached. He couldn't tell if she recognized him or not, but he was sure once she did, it wouldn't be pleasant.

"Hercules!" she screamed.

"Is this him?" he asked, startling her from his spot across the street. Hermione had crossed the street only halfway when recognition spread across her face.

"Malfoy? What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, closing the space between them. "And why the HELL do YOU have MY cat?"

"He was in my backyard. Lying in the sun with my cat."

"_You_ have a cat?" she asked, reaching for Hercules.

"I do."

"A man of many words. You've stolen my heart with such an in-depth question." Her words were so full of sarcasm, he could have sworn that if he'd had a scale in front of him he would have been able to actually weigh them.

"And you have such a chipper attitude, don't you?" Hermione glared at him. "And why I'm here is none of your business."

"It's a small town. It won't take long for me to figure it out."

"Fine. Why are _you_ here?"

" 'Why I'm here is none of your business'," she said, imitating Draco's voice with great annoyance.

" 'It's a small town. It won't take long for me to figure it out'." Hermione glared at him again.

She looked at the house behind him. "Is this your place?" Draco nodded. "I'll try to stay away from it."

Turning on her heel, Hermione stalked off, Hercules bouncing in her arms, frustration and annoyance on his face.

Three days later, Hermione had almost forgotten her run-in with Draco Malfoy. She did not make a temporary move to France just so she could put up with this. She was outside in her backyard, hand-raking leaves that had fallen from the two trees in her yard, when a blur of orange ran through her peripheral line of view, followed by a blur of little boy.

Hermione jumped to her feet and chased the little boy into her backyard. She found him cornering a thin orange cat. He had dark brown hair that curled a bit at the ends. He didn't notice her watching him.

"Do you need help with him?" she asked, startling him. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her.

"Mina's a girl," he said, turning his attention back to the cat.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought she was a boy." Hermione took half a dozen long strides towards the boy. "She might be scared."

"No, she just doesn't want to come home yet. But my dad says it's getting late, and I don't want her to be outside when it gets dark."

"I see. Why don't you let me try and catch her, and then I'll help you carry her home?" He nodded, not taking his eyes off the cat.

Hermione moved slowly towards the cat who sat in the corner of Hermione's fenced-in yard, the cat's tail flicking violently back and forth. She knelt down next to the cat and grabbed the cat firmly by the scruff of her neck. The cat protested, but Hermione got the better of the feline, scooping her up.

Standing back up, Hermione could see the happiness on the boy's face.

"Now, let's get you back home. Where do you live?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'm only three."

Five minutes later, Hermione had the little boy and his cat inside her home. The two of them sat facing each other at Hermione's kitchen table.

"Your name is Scorpius. That's an interesting name. Is there more to that name? Something that comes after Scorpius?" Scorpius's legs dangled from the chair, and he was barely able to rest his small arms on the table.

"Scorpius Hyperion," he said, thinking highly of himself for knowing this.

"Hyperion? I don't know many people in this town yet, but I know I haven't heard that name before."

"We live in a tan house. It looks kind of squished-" he used his hands to demonstrate something being squished together sideways "-and it's tall with a big back yard."

"That sounds like a few houses I've seen. What's your mother's name?" she asked.

"I don't have a mother. I have a grandmother, though. Is that the same?"

"No," Hermione said, smiling to herself. "Did your mother die?"

"I don't know. It's just me and Daddy. And Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma watches me sometimes when Daddy leaves. She pops over all the time."

"So your grandmother lives close?"

"No. She lives in a place called Britain. But she can get here really quickly! She just poofs over to our house from hers!"

"Poofs over? Like magic?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah! It _is_ magic!" Scorpius began to dance in his seat.

"What's your daddy's name, Scorpius?"

"Draco. He's very tall, and he has white hair! But not like Grandma. Grandma's hair is white because she's old. Daddy's not old. He has a different kind of white hair."

"I know your father. And I know where you live." Hermione stood up and extended her hand, which Scorpius took. "Let's get your cat and get you home."

"Scorpius!" Draco yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Scorpius!" He looked through as many yards as he could, but he could not see his son anywhere. "Scorpius!"

Draco's mind went into worst-case-scenario mode the moment he realized his son wasn't in his backyard anymore. He double-checked the house, triple-checked the front and back yards, and began calling out for his son, hoping the boy was within hearing distance.

Draco was about to notify the muggle authorities when he heard his son's laughter growing louder. He also heard a woman's voice. His heart jumped from his stomach to his throat when Scorpius came into view. Scorpius let go of Hermione's hand and ran into his crouching father's arms, Draco hugging his son tightly.

"Don't EVER leave this yard without me again," Draco said, fear causing his voice to break a bit. He looked up to see Hermione watching him, holding Calumina in her arms. "Go inside and get ready for bed. You're going to bed a bit early tonight."

Scorpius ran right inside, the sound of his feet on the steps echoing outside.

"Thank you, Hermione," Draco said, reaching for the cat.

"You returned my cat unharmed, so I figured I could the same with your son." Hermione folded her arms over her chest.

"Returning a cat isn't nearly the same as returning a child. Where did you find him?" Draco asked, taking the cat inside. Hermione followed, unsure if she was welcome inside.

"He chased his cat into my backyard. Then he tried to tell me his name was Scorpius Hyperion. It wasn't until he started talking about your white hair and how his grandmother could magically poof to your house that I realized he was talking about you."

"I don't think I can ever express my gratitude to you, Hermione."

"You're calling me 'Hermione.' Since when do you refer to us muggle-borns by our given names?" Hermione's tone was a bit harsher than she meant it to be, and she could have sworn she saw Draco Malfoy cringe slightly at her words.

"People change, Hermione. Even people like me." Hermione wanted to rebut this, but Draco spoke before she had a chance. "Are you still legally working for the Ministry?"

"Yes. How did you know I even worked there in the first place?" Hermione asked, letting her arms fall to her sides.

"I work freelance for several of the wizarding newspapers, and Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of the _Quibbler_-"

"I know who Xenophilius Lovegood is," Hermione interrupted.

"-asked me to contact your office at the Ministry about something called a crumpled-horn snorkack. He claims you have proof they exist."

Hermione laughed. "Xenophilius is a madman! He's got more nuts in his head than a squirrel in hibernation!" This made Draco laugh.

"I like to call it 'batshit' crazy." This time they laughed together.

"I should probably be going," Hermione said, motioning towards the front door.

"I know you have every reason to still hate me, Hermione, but I'd like to buy you dinner, for bringing my son back to me."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She did hate the man. Or she thought she had. And he _was_ right: she did have every reason to still hate him. But something about the way he had hugged his son, the way he had treated her ever since she found him holding her cat... It brought back those words that had caused her to take this sabbatical in the first place.

_People change_.

"Clean slate?" she asked, biting the inside of her bottom lip.

"Sounds good," he said.

She thought another minute, and then she said, "Okay."


	11. Chapter Ten

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Ten

Between four and six Friday evening, Hermione had changed her outfit six times. She had also changed her mind about even going with every outfit change.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself, looking in the mirror every time she changed clothes. "This is dinner between...well, I can't say 'friends' because we aren't friends. He's grateful that I brought his son home instead of some creepy child molester. That's all. And I only accepted because I didn't have any other plans at the time." She looked at Hercules who was perched atop her dresser. "Am I crazy for going tonight, Hercules?"

The cat let out a short, low meow.

"I wish I could understand you. You probably just said 'No, Hermione. Don't go because he's no different than five years ago when he was siding with the enemy'. Is that what you said?" Hercules let out the same short, low meow. Hermione sighed.

Draco Malfoy, the boy she'd hated for so many years, would be picking her up at seven. That gave her half an hour to get her mind together.

Hermione looked around her room. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Her favorite blue shirt, a red dress that hugged her body nicely, and a bunch of other garment pieces that just didn't look right tonight for some reason.

Hermione finally settled on a short-sleeved gray v-neck shirt, black bell skirt, and black belt, pulling the whole thing together with a pair of black ballet shoes. Nothing too over-the-top, but something that would be appropriate for dinner just about anywhere. Pulling out her wand, Hermione magically applied makeup to her face. She pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail, her hair chemically relaxed and curling up at the ends.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

Draco was running late. He checked the clock and it read 6:50 P.M. His mother had agreed to pick Scorpius up at 6:30, but she hadn't shown up yet. He watched the second hand slowly ticking away.

_Tick, tick, tick_.

Scorpius was in the living room playing, waiting for his grandmother patiently. Draco wandered in to watch his son. Scorpius looked up when Draco sat on the sofa.

"Why are you all dressed up, Daddy?" he asked, holding his toy car still.

"I'm taking the lady who brought you home to dinner to thank her," Draco asked.

"For bringing me home?" Scorpius asked.

Draco laughed. "Yeah, for bringing you back home."

"She's nice. She gave me cookies when I was her house. They were good."

Draco heard a sudden popping noise in the foyer, Narcissa's voice calling out to him.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Draco. You're father and I were...talking, and I lost track of the time." Draco could hear his mother's voice falter after her pause, and she didn't hold her head as high as she normally did.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. She nodded unconvincingly.

"Go. Have a nice time by yourself, and we'll be here when you get back."

Making sure his wand was tucked into his jacket's inside pocket, and that his wallet had both muggle and wizard currency in it, Draco dropped his next question for her.

"I shouldn't be out late," he said, kissing the top of Scorpius's head. "No mischief, Scorpius."

"I won't. I promise."

Draco was out the door and heading for Hermione's quicker than he'd realized. The sun's crest was barely visible as it sunk further into the earth. It wasn't a long walk to Hermione's house, and Draco found himself quite nervous, despite the fact that this dinner was only a means of thanking her for what she had done.

The lights were on in Hermione's house, but he didn't see her anywhere. He paced himself, walking slowly up to the front door, knocking firmly three times. It took a moment, but Hermione finally opened the door, ready as far as Draco could see.

Hermione smiled at him. _He cleans up nicely, at least_, she thought. _I would almost call him cute._

"Let me just turn off the lights, and I'll be right out." Hermione retreated into the house, and Draco watched as the lights shut off one by one throughout the house. Pulling the door behind herself, Hermione locked the door. "So, where are we going? I hope I'm not over-dressed?"

"No. You look..." Draco was at a loss for words. He'd always talked Hermione Granger down in school, calling her names, teasing her, making her feel as bad as possibly could. But tonight, when Draco looked at the woman in front of him, it was like their past never existed. If he'd been raised differently – not thinking muggle-borns witches and wizards were beneath him in status – he could have easily been attracted to Hermione.

Her clothing hugged the curves of her body, and her legs, long and lean, looked smooth and delicate. Her hair was managed, pulled out of her face, showing off the beauty of her face. Her brown eyes were bright, highlighted by something shimmery on her eyelids. Her lips were red, but a soft red.

Draco cleared his throat. "You like fine. We're going to a small place about three miles east of here. You can side-along if you'd like."

"Okay," Hermione said, slipping her arm through the crook of Draco's.

Hermione wasn't sure how Draco felt, but she was nervous. While waiting to be seated, Hermione had studied Draco. She had honestly expected him to show up in something overly uptight-looking or something that looked as though he had thrown it together in two minutes. She stole small glances while Draco watched out the window.

He had worn a light blue button-down shirt, which was a nice change from all the green he had worn during their school years, and a pair of well-fitting black slacks. Not much to think about in terms of men's clothing, but it showed off his physique nicely. She began wondering what he looked like underneath, if he was lean and built like a swimmer or if he was toned, like a soccer player. She was mentally attaching his head onto an overly-buff professional muscle builder when the waiter announced their table was ready. Returning her attention to where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, Hermione followed the waiter into the dining area, the feel of Draco's presence behind her slightly unnerving, in a good way.

Hermione sipped her glass of burgundy wine as she and Draco waited for their dinner. Conversation had been minimalistic. She didn't know what she should talk about. His son? Her job? _His_ job? She sipped her wine again.

"What brought you to France?" Draco asked, Hermione almost losing her grip on her wine glass.

"It's a bit complicated. My life needed change, and my parents had an available vacation home here. I think my cat adjusted quicker than I did, though," Hermione answered. "How about you? What made you choose France for you and your son?"

"Actually, I didn't really _choose_ France. I had been making my way across Europe, learning different types of magic, new spells and charms that weren't taught at Hogwarts, and I ended up meeting Scorpius's mother here. I fell in love with her, but apparently my feelings weren't reciprocated. I'd made myself a bit of a life here when she left."

"She left? And she left you with a baby?" Hermione asked.

"Well-" Draco paused when the waiter interrupted to place theirs meals on the table. "-she left before she knew she was pregnant. She returned when he was about a week old and said she couldn't take care of him. It was either me or an orphanage, and I wasn't about to let her put him in an orphanage. Not when I was perfectly capable of taking care of my son...even if I didn't know a thing about raising kids."

Hermione smiled at Draco, looking into his eyes. "You seem to be doing pretty well. He seems like a good, smart kid. Do you think she'll ever come back?"

"I try not to think about it. Scorpius doesn't know who she is. He doesn't remember her at all, and he rarely asks about her."

"What do you tell him when he does ask about her?"

"That she chose not to be part of our lives. That she may not want us in her life, but that we wish her well despite it."

"That's mature of you." Hermione bit her lip, deciding on her next question. "Would you ever let her back into your life if she came back?"

"I honestly don't know." Draco took a long drink of his own wine. "I think I'd give her a chance, if she asked for one. She is Scorpius's mother after all."

Hermione nodded. "Do you still love her?"

"I don't know. That's a question better answered if I ever saw her again." They both laughed.

"Why aren't you married yet, Hermione? I figured you and Weasley would have tied the knot already."

Hermione took a deep breath. "It didn't work out the way I had hoped it would. He is definitely not the same guy I fell in love with in school."

"What happened? If you don't mind my asking," Draco inquired, just as Hermione took another sip of her wine.

"I don't know if he'd appreciate my saying anything. He only just came to terms with things himself earlier last month, before Harry and Ginny's wedding."

"Well, it's not like he's turned _gay_, right?" Draco asked, his voice joking. Hermione folded her lips inward and bit down on them, trying not to let any words, sounds, or laughs out. Draco's face contorted with disbelief. "Seriously?"

Hermione tried as hard as she could not to speak, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form words.

"I never saw that one coming," Draco said, draining the rest of the wine in his glass. "We are going to need another bottle soon, I think!" Draco pulled the half-empty wine bottle from the ice bucket and refilled his glass. Hermione held her own glass for him to top off.

"You have to promise me you won't say anything!" Hermione said, holding her full glass up in gesture of a toast.

Draco touched his glass to Hermione's. "You have my word." They both sipped from their glasses and began to eat their meals, conversation flowing much easier than it had before.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Eleven

"_FINE_? I look 'FINE'?" Hermione seethed, Hercules sitting up on the bed, looking at his owner with the most peculiar look. Hermione tossed her handbag onto the bed and slipped off her shoes. "I mean, it's not like I intentionally put this outfit together to impress the man, and it's not like I really even _care_ what he thinks, but I look better than '_FINE_'!"

Hercules meowed at her, standing up and stretching his front paws forward, digging his claws into the top blanket on Hermione's bed.

"Stop that, Hercules! You wretched cat. Here I am, trying to pour my feelings into you, and you're ignoring me." Hercules just stared at Hermione.

Hermione was too frustrated to relax on her own, so she quickly showered away her annoyance. Men were torture on her brain lately. Heading into the kitchen, Hermione found a half bottle of Merlot that she'd bought at a local wine store a few days prior and a clean wine glass. Taking her copy of _10,000 Uses for the Oddest of Muggle Contraptions_, Hermione slipped outside into her backyard where she read through several hundred uses for the most random common household items – such as rubber bands, plastic soda bottles, and lawn mowers – without a single interruption. Having performed a warming charm, Hermione saved herself from getting cold in autumn night air.

She'd become slightly intoxicated, having finished off her bottle of wine on top of what she had had with dinner, and Hermione only stopped reading when the words began to run together. She'd found it odd that a 'rummer mand' could be used to pull hair into a gony pail and to keep hewsgagers rolled up. She'd later reread this last sentence to find out what she'd really read through was that a 'rubber band' could be used to pull hair back into a pony tail and to keep newspapers rolled up.

Hermione stumbled back into her house, clanked the empty wine bottle and wine glass into the kitchen sink, and fumbled into her bedroom. She fell asleep quicker than ever before, face down on the corner of her bed.

"_Fine_? That was the best I could come up with? Good God, she must think I'm stupid!" Draco stewed, talking to himself like a madman as he walked from Hermione's house to his own. "She looked far better than just fine...even I have to admit that."

Draco's mind was filled with images of Hermione from Hogwarts, images of her being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange in his parent's home, images from earlier this week, and images of Hermione from earlier _tonight_, and Draco threw his head backward, taking in a deep breath of cold air. He felt his lungs expand and grow cold, his breath billowing out like smoke from a chimney.

He stopped at the end of the pathway leading to his front door. Draco could see his mother sitting at his dining table, her head in her hands. Her body was shaking, and he could only assume that she was crying. Draco hated that his mother never shared her problems with him, that she never let him in on what was going on between her and her husband.

Narcissa pulled her head from her hands and wiped her face with a napkin. Draco watched as his mother stood and walked towards the kitchen. Taking another deep breath, he made his way up the cobblestone path towards his front door.

He tried his best to clear his mind and sober up as best he could, but it wasn't enough to hide his slight intoxication from his mother.

"Your eyes are too red to hide, Draco," she said, her face completely composed and showing no signs of having cried for who knows how long. "And I'm not saying I don't think you should drink, because you're a grown man, and you can do what you want. Just don't forget you've got responsibilities at home."

"I know, Mother. I haven't forgotten." Draco kissed the top of his mother's forehead. "And thank you for watching Scorpius."

"I'm more than happy to do it, and you know that." Narcissa pulled her coat from the hook near the back door. "You know, you really should have chosen a better name for that boy. Scorpius is such an unfortunate name for anyone, let alone a child. He'll be teased when he gets older."

"Like I was?" Draco asked, eying his mother jokingly. "Besides, he already had the name when Astoria dropped him off to me." Narcissa pushed her arms through the sleeves of her coat and fastened all three buttons. She smiled and hugged her son.

"I'll be off then. Your father will be wondering where I am. I told him to expect me two hours ago." Draco nodded.

"Take care of yourself, Mother." Narcissa gave Draco a weak smile before apparating away.

Draco climbed the stairs feebly, fumbling into his bedroom and out of his clothes. Not bothering with pajamas, he fell into bed in nothing but his boxers, sleep taking over his body quickly.

Narcissa always felt awful when she lied to her son. Lucius wasn't waiting for her at home. She was already in bed when he stumbled into her bedroom, the smell of alcohol hanging heavily on his breath. He fell into the bed and jerked the covers from Narcissa's body, the sudden cold pulling her from her soft slumber.

Lucius had his clothes off before Narcissa could register what was happening. She tried to push him off, but her attempts were useless. Lucius was far stronger than she was. He pulled the thin straps of her negligee downwards, exposing the flesh of her breasts. Narcissa simply lie lifeless as her husband groped her breasts violently. Her skin would bruise by morning, and silent tears fell down Narcissa's face.

Lucius slobbered his tongue down Narcissa's neck and chest, licking each breast, biting her nipples hard before sliding the silk hem of her gown up. Narcissa continued to cry in silence as her husband made horrid drunken love to her. She curled herself into a ball when he finished, and she sobbed harder when he left for his own bedroom.

Narcissa tried to remember a time when her husband had loved her, but she had cried her eyes dry in desperation. And what was worse was the fact that she had no way of leaving. None of the Malfoy fortune belonged to her, Lucius had made sure of that. He had either inherited or earned every Knut himself, preventing Narcissa from ever making a Sickle herself. He had said they would wait to have children until they were both far in their careers, until they had both had a chance to experience life.

But Lucius had made sure no form of birth control was used, and Narcissa found herself pregnant just after their first anniversary. After Draco's birth, Lucius took every precaution necessary to make sure Narcissa didn't get pregnant again.

Narcissa had taken her husband's advice when he said it would be better for their son if she stayed at home to raise him herself instead of paying a governess to do it. And Narcissa now found herself with no one in the house to raise, no money to her name, and a husband who treated her worse than dirt.

This is why she lied to her son. Draco didn't deserve to know the truth about his father; she thought it only fair to her son that he believe his father had changed after Voldermort's fall.

Hermione Granger awoke the next morning with a splitting headache, and it was all she could do to pull out the potions book she'd used in her sixth year at Hogwarts. Flipping through the pages and trying to focus through the pain, Hermione finally found what she could easily deem the Holy Grail: a pain remedying potion perfect for curing her hangover.

She always kept herself stocked with enough ingredients for one dose of the potion, and she quickly brewed the creamy blue substance. Drinking its entirety, Hermione felt the pain drain from her body. It was like having a bucket of lukewarm water slowly poured over your head. The sensation began at the top of her head and continued down the length of her body. She wiggled her toes in her slippers as the sensation left her feet.

Hermione followed her cat into the backyard where she recovered the book she'd been reading. The chair was still warm from the warming charm she'd used, and she smiled to herself. It amazed her that even in her state of temporary state of inebriation she could still remember to keep herself warm.

It would be almost a week before Hermione heard from Draco again. He had sent her an owl with an invitation to dinner at his home for Sunday evening. Hermione bit her lip as she read through the scrawled note.

She'd accepted his dinner invitation last time because he had insisted it was only a thank-you for bringing his son back home. Her mind flashed back to their years in Hogwarts. She could easily remember how Draco had undermined her every chance he could, how he had called her some of the most foul names he could come up with, and how he shot her looks of disgust every time he saw her in the hallways and classrooms.

But then Hermione thought back to the first time she saw him in the street. He'd been holding a frightened Hercules as gently as he could. And he'd made no attempt to treat her badly since then. She thought of how he interacted with his son...

Taking a deep breath, Hermione searched the house until she found some paper and pen. She wrote a delicate response accepting Draco's offer. She was nervous already, but Hermione realized it wasn't because she was worried. She was nervous because of how good it felt to accept a dinner invitation from Draco Malfoy, her once sworn enemy.

Recalling her struggle with finding an outfit the last time, Hermione decided on making getting ready this time easy on herself. She pulled her jacket on, slung her purse onto her shoulder, and apparated into the bustling Paris afternoon, appearing in her normal Paris alleyway so as not to be seen by Parisian muggles.

Three hours and countless outfits later, Hermione had found the perfect top, a simple red V-neck tunic-style sweater that she would pair with her favorite dark-wash denim jeans at home. And by the time Sunday afternoon rolled its way around, Hermione had grown nervous again. She kept second-guessing her decision, finally deciding she would go because it would be extremely rude of her to cancel on such short notice.

Gathering as much courage as she could muster, Hermione left her quiet, dark and empty house for the much more lively home down the street, where a three-year-old little boy was trying to help his father cook dinner with far too much enthusiasm.

**A/N: I apologize to the greatest extent that I can that it took me sooooo long to get this chapter out! My computer died on me, and it took this long to get another one, but now I've got a new one, and my mind and fingers are ready to keep sharing with everyone! **


	13. Chapter Twelve

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)**

Chapter Twelve

Hermione knocked on the door, a loud crash sounding from somewhere in the house. Confused, she waited only a moment before Draco opened the door, looking slightly frazzled and covered in food remnants. He smiled at her, and Hermione couldn't help but let out a small giggle.

"I, um...well, I was trying to make some meat pies, but I'm not very domestic..." Draco said, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Come on inside, and I'll try to clean up." Draco moved backwards and ushered Hermione inside. "I'll take your coat," Draco said, shifting behind Hermione and helping her out of her jacket.

"Thanks. I see you're quite the messy chef," Hermione said, pulling a string of something or other out of Draco's hair. She couldn't help but make note of how soft it was despite all the gel he'd put it in over the last twenty years.

Scorpius poked his head round the corner from the kitchen, laughing more than a three-year-old should be. He waved to Hermione.

"Yes, well, I had some help from a chef who's even less qualified than I am." Scorpius laughed again.

Hermione drew her and Draco's attention to the bottle of sparkling non-alcoholic cider she'd brought with her.

"I figured it would make Scorpius feel like a grown up without the side effects."

Draco took it from her and, smiling, nodded his head a few times. "That is a good idea actually. You were always more clever than I gave you credit for. I'll put this in the refrigerator until dinner is finished."

Hermione watched as Draco turned down the hall and disappeared into the kitchen. Had Draco Malfoy just complimented her, Hermione Granger, on being clever? She slowly followed Draco into the kitchen where she was greeted by the wonderful aroma of turkey meat pies baking in the oven; however, she was also greeted by the biggest pie-making mess she'd ever seen. It was as though Draco had tried once to make the pies and put them in the oven only to have the oven throw the meat pies back out. Chopped vegetables were all over the counters and floor, flour and dough covered the counter tops, floors, and walls, and bowls and baking tools were lying on every other available amount of space.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Draco and Scorpius trying to maneuver between things. Hermione tiptoed around the mess to stand next to the pair.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Draco asked, attempting to clean up a bit of the mess. Hermione nodded between her snickers.

"I'm sorry, but you two are a sight to behold in all of your culinary glory," Hermione answered, picking up a towel soaked in water and dropping it into the sink.

Draco smiled a wicked smile and slid his finger across the counter, covering it in dough and flour. Hermione put her hands up and took a small step backwards.

"You wouldn't dare!" she squealed, shaking her head a few times.

Draco's grin got even wickeder as he lunged forward, streaking the flour and dough across Hermione's nose and right cheek. Hermione let out a sharp gasp, and Scorpius's giggles could be heard from across the kitchen. Hermione looked around and made a quick movement for the sink, taking back the dripping towel. Reaching above Draco's head, she twisted the small towel over his head, Draco's jaw dropping from the sudden impact of cold water on his head.

"You do realize that this means war, don't you?" Draco asked, taking a few steps backward.

Within seconds, Hermione and Draco both grabbed for whatever they could find to throw back and forth at one another. Bits and pieces of carrots, celery, potatoes, and peas were flying through the air as well as badly-aimed spatulas and the sopping wet hand towel.

Hermione and Draco's laughs could be heard outside, but, thankfully, there wasn't anyone out there to wonder about their sanity. Hermione tried to hide behind the open refrigerator door, and Draco protected as much of himself as he could with the lid to a cooking pot, using the lid as a shield.

Scorpius was trying his best to stay out of the adult's war, but he wasn't very good at hiding his own poorly-thrown bits of vegetables.

Eventually Hermione and Draco's throws subsided, and they found themselves covered with crud from hair to shoe. Both were breathing heavily, and they both burst out laughing at the site of the mess they had created in the kitchen.

"This is not going to be an easy fix," Draco said, scanning the room thoroughly. He took a deep breath and opened a drawer across from the refrigerator, inside of which were clean hand towels. Hermione watched as he began to wipe up as much of the dry mess as he could. She quickly intervened.

"You know, we could just flick this all away with our wands, right?" she asked, pulling her wand from a small pocket she'd magically sewn into the sleeve of her shirt.

"I have never been one with cleaning spells. Of all the spells to have trouble with, I had to have issues with cleaning ones." He sighed.

"I can teach you. They're really not that difficult to master once you know which charm works for which mess." Hermione took another look around the room.

"I'd classify this as a food mess, even though it wasn't technically a food _spillage_." She raised her wand into the air and muttered the cleaning charm.

"_Pantophagous_." They both watched as the bits and pieces of food rose slightly in the air and, with a sudden tiny burst of smoke from each piece, vanished into thin air. "There's also a charm for bewitching brooms and mops to do the manual work for you of cleaning up any spills left behind by the food that just disappeared." Hermione raised her wand again. With a small curled flick of her wrist, she said firmly, "_Expurgata Mandata_."

From the tall, narrow kitchen closet shot out Draco's mop and broom, which both set to work removing the water, vegetable juices, flour, and dough from the floor, counters, cabinet doors, and ceiling. Draco gave two claps to Hermione's magic, and she curtsied, flashing him a quick smile.

"Now all that's left is ourselves," Hermione said, lifting her wand once again. "_Fabricella Scourgia_." Just as the food had disappeared into thin air, the mess on their clothes dissolved into nothingness, leaving their clothing looking brand new.

"I'm definitely going to have to write those down," Draco said, checking his clothing just to be sure. He looked up at Hermione, who looked just as she had before their food fight began. He noticed a small strand of hair that had fallen from her sleek ponytail. Taking a few steps forward, Draco gently tucked the strand of hair behind Hermione's ear.

Hermione felt the flesh of her ear warm at his touch as Draco nestled the stand of hair behind her ear. She found herself smiling both inside and out. Draco's hand lingered on the side of Hermione's neck, resting gently to feel her heartbeat pulsing gently beneath his fingers.

"I want to play a game!" Scorpius yelled, breaking the silence and slight tension, and jumping down from the counter he'd been sitting on. He ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to - Hermione assumed - his bedroom. Hermione followed Draco down the hallway and into their living room. Draco motioned for Hermione to have a seat on the couch, and she did so. Draco joined her on the couch, Hermione on the right side and Draco on the left, leaving the middle cushion open for Scorpius.

However, when Scorpius returned with his child-sized wizard's chessboard and matching pieces, he sat in the chair opposite Hermione and Draco, across the coffee table in between the chair and sofa. He laid the chessboard on the table, and set the pieces up by himself, proclaiming the game as ready when he had them all lined up in correct order.

"I want to play against you, Hermione!" Scorpius said, pulling himself to the edge of the seat.

"He's three years old, and he knows how to play wizard's chess?" she asked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on her knees. She raised an eyebrow in Draco's direction.

"It's a children's set, so it's actually got a voice box to tell him the best place to move any piece he picks up. He doesn't actually _know_ how to play; he simply does what the board says," Draco explained.

"Oh, I see. Well, to be honest, I think the voice box will come in handy for me as well." Hermione turned to look Scorpius right in the eyes, "I've never played this game either, so we're both going to learn something new tonight!"

"You've never played wizard's chess?" he asked, sitting up straight with a look of sudden shock on his face. "But you're my daddy's age!"

"I know. And I did take part in a human game of wizard's chess, but I've never actually played wizard's chess with a real wizard's chessboard before."

"It's okay. I'll teach you!" Scorpius said, studying the board. He chose to move a pawn, instructing it to move forward two spaces. Hermione could only assume she could apply muggle chess rules, and proceeded to move one of her pawns as well. She mimicked Scorpius's moves for some time, until he caught on to what she was doing. "We'll never finish the game if you keep making the same moves as me!"

"I guess you're right. Okay then. Let's see..." Hermione and Scorpius finished their game, Scorpius finally defeating Hermione. She'd never tell him that she caught on to the game quite early and had let him win though. "Well, it seems you're better at this game than I am!"

"That's because I've played it almost every day since I got it for my birthday!" Scorpius said as he put the pieces back on their appropriate squares.

Draco stood and said, "I'm going to check the pies. They should be done by now." Scorpius's eyes were focused completely on his chessboard, and Hermione watched as he meticulously handled each and every piece.

"I think my daddy likes you," Scorpius said, breaking the silence in the room.

Hermione was taken aback at the boy's bluntness, but, then again, what could you expect from a three-year-old? "And what make you think that?" Hermione asked, leaning in closer to the boy.

"You make him smile, and he's happy when he comes home after talking to you. And he talked about you almost every day for a week! He doesn't even talk about Grandma that much!" Hermione laughed and scooted backwards on the sofa cushion, straightening her back a bit.

She turned towards the sound of Draco's voice as he beckoned Hermione and Scorpius into the dining room. The aroma wafting down the hall from where the turkey meat pies sat on the dining table was almost mouth-watering. And they were just as delicious as they smelled.

Scorpius ate his dinner quickly as he wanted so much to get back to the living room to play wizard's chess again. Hermione and Draco ate slower, left behind halfway through their meal by the young boy.

"This is very good. I wouldn't have thought you would be this good a cook," Hermione said as she took another bite.

"Thank you. I've had a lot of practice. My mother spent much of her time at home cooking meals. And not just for me. She'd cook for the maids, she'd cook for my father's friends, and she'd even cook for the _cooks_. She'd be in the kitchen making something from scratch probably three or four evenings a week. And as soon as I was old enough to stir, she had me recruited. And as the years went on, I graduated to ladling out portions and boiling on the stovetop. Eventually she even let me bake."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh slightly. "You sound so excited about it!"

"They were some of the best memories I have from being home every summer. I could have cared less about what my father had me doing. My mother loved me unconditionally… no matter what."

"And Lucius didn't? He doesn't seem like the doting father type."

Draco shook his head. "He wasn't all I made him out to be. But I didn't realize it at the time. He was my father after all. He was a god to me. He could do no wrong. But with my father, I had to earn his love. If I messed up, he didn't like me. If I did exceptionally well – or just usually better than Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and yourself – then he liked me. And if when I finally told him I'd convert myself into a Death Eater…that's when he truly _loved_ me."

Draco stared at his food, and Hermione felt her heart sink low into her chest. She reached across the table and rested her hand on Draco's wrist. He looked up at her, and their eyes met; Hermione offered him a genuine smile, and Draco returned it, placing his free hand on top of hers.

And that's when Hermione remembered it. Buried under the sleeve on his left arm, just below the inside of his elbow, Draco had the permanent reminder of the decision he had made years ago. Hermione pulled her hand from between Draco's and took his left hand into her own. Unbuttoning the left sleeve, Hermione slid the cotton fabric up his arm, exposing the skull and snake tattoo. The snake's tail flicked back and forth and the mouth of the skull opened wide.

Draco started to pull his arm away, but Hermione stopped him, gently running her hand over the darkened blemish. He felt the skin around the tattoo begin to warm, something it hadn't done in years. It had been cold and almost lifeless since the day he had been branded with the Dark Mark by Lord Voldemort. Hermione's touch was intoxicating, and Draco could feel himself being sucked in more and more by it.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one! :) Hopefully chapter updates will become regular again – now that I have another computer! As usual, please review whether ****you liked it or not! Thanks!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: Not really an author's note today. Just want to say thanks to those of you who are still reading!**

Chapter Thirteen

Hermione still didn't know what had possessed her to look at the Dark Mark on Draco's arm. But she simply could not keep herself from looking. After a few moments, Hermione and Draco returned to their dinner, finishing in a calming silence. Scorpius's voice could be heard from the living room. It seemed he was using his wizard's chess pieces as a pair of battling armies.

Draco scooped up their dishes and took them into the kitchen, and Hermione followed Scorpius's playful voice into the living room. After Draco joined them, he and Scorpius played against each other; Draco had also let Scorpius win.

"I think it's getting a little late for you, son. You should go get your pajamas on and get ready for bed," Draco said.

"But I want to watch the two of you play! You're both really good at this game, and I want to know who's better." Draco took a long breath and thought for a moment.

"How about this: you get your pajamas on, and we'll reset the board. And after you watch us play one game, it's off to bed. Deal?" Draco asked.

"Deal!" Scorpius yelled. The little boy ran off as fast as he could, and Hermione and Draco laughed. Hermione watched as Draco flipped the chessboard over and turned off the voiced instructions; Draco then set the pieces back onto their appropriate squares.

Scorpius was back only seconds after Draco had finished setting up the board, but it was clear he'd rushed putting on his pajamas. The pants he had on were inside out and his shirt was backwards. He had on one sock and one slipper, and neither one were on the same foot. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Not quite what I was thinking, but it'll work for now. You can fix it later." Scorpius smiled and sat himself on the chair across from the sofa. Hermione turned herself to face Draco as he angled the chessboard between Hermione and himself.

"Good luck," Draco said to Hermione, sending her his usual wicked smile. Hermione returned it with her own equally wicked smile, a few new tricks up her sleeve she'd acquired playing against Scorpius, making her first move.

Back and forth the pair went, each taking a turn, waiting for the moment they could declare the winner. Neither Hermione nor Draco noticed the two hours that had flown by as they studied the board between turns. And neither of them noticed the child awkwardly sprawled across the chair across from them, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm brought about by sleep. Hermione had pulled her hair from its ponytail holder, her hair returning almost automatically to its long curly state.

Draco stared at the board and its remaining pieces, scratching his chin in thought. Hermione bit her lip, hoping Draco wouldn't notice one of his three possible moves. If he took it, it would put Hermione's king into check, and she'd have to sacrifice her queen in order to save her king. If he moved any piece other than his bishop, she'd actually be able to win. Hermione's eyes darted back and forth from the board to Draco's face, trying to see which pieces he was studying. She saw the slightest glint of acknowledgment in Draco's eyes, and Hermione knew he'd seen the moved. Hermione released her bottom lip when Draco's hand moved to his last knight instead of his bishop. She smiled anyways and commanded her queen forward, putting Draco's king into checkmate, earning herself the title of winner.

"Not bad for your first match against someone who knows what they're doing," Draco said.

"You let me win, Draco. I know you saw that move. You had me beat." Hermione looked at Draco, his face on the board for a split second before looking back at her.

"I certainly did no such thing. You earned that win yourself." Hermione gave Draco a confused look, not noticing his hand sliding slowly to the chessboard.

"Yes, you did. You could have moved your bishop – " Hermione pointed to chessboard, where the bishop had stood, only to find that it was no longer there. Her eyes immediately flew the pile of Draco's discarded wizard's chess pieces. There was only one bishop. Draco couldn't help letting out a small snicker, and Hermione's face spun towards his, Draco's hand hidden behind his back. "You took it off the board!' Hermione yelled, laughing at the obviously cheesy grin on Draco's face.

"What piece are you referring to?" Draco asked, flexing his fingers around the bishop behind his back.

Hermione lowered her chin, making full eye contact with Draco, who's smile quickly faded. Before he could respond, Hermione lunged, letting out the faintest of squeals. Draco was thrown backwards onto the sofa, his head landing against the armrest, Hermione's hair cascading around them like a curtain. Hermione shoved her hand between Draco's back and the sofa cushion in an attempt to free the bishop from Draco's grasp.

Hermione jumped into the back of the sofa at a sudden poke in her side. Draco had tickled her. _Tickled _her. She sat up straight, straddling Draco's lap, staring down at his face. Draco pulled the bishop from behind his back, wiggled it in annoyance at Hermione, and set it gently on the table with the other chess pieces.

"You tickled me!" Hermione said, completely shocked. "I can't believe you did that!"

"I've regressed in my old age, I guess," Draco said. Hermione let out a single short chuckle. Her chuckle turned into full-fledged laughter when Draco sat up and tickled her again. Hermione had always been ticklish, overly sensitive at her sides and feet. She wiggled farther into the back of the couch as Draco's fingers continued their attack.

Trying her best to push through the tickling, Hermione's hands found their way to Draco's own waist in her attempt to tickle him. Draco's hands stopped their torture, and he stared at Hermione.

"Doesn't work on me. I'm not ticklish," he said.

"That is so not fair!" Hermione whined. They were sitting in a strange position, Hermione still technically on Draco's lap. Hermione ran through a list of everything she could think of that would get the same point across that tickling did with her. There was only one way to throw Draco completely off balance. Taking a strengthening breath, Hermione leaned forward and kissed Draco firmly on the mouth.

She expected Draco to push her away, that they would both look at each other and begin to laugh, but neither of those things happened. Hermione's plan had backfired completely. She felt Draco's hands rest on her sides, her shirt gripped in his fists, and she felt her head begin to swim and Draco deepened their kiss from something short and to-the-point to something much more.

Hermione's hands moved of their own accord around Draco's neck and she squirmed slightly, pulling herself closer to Draco's body without breaking their kiss. Draco moved his hands behind Hermione's back and pulled her even closer to himself. He could feel her heartbeat through the fabric of their shirts, and it was racing, as was his own. Draco moved one of her hands up to her face, pushing her hair over her shoulder, resting his hand on her neck.

Hermione sucked her breath in sharply when Draco's hand moved to her neck, and she hoped he didn't notice. She found herself smiling into Draco's mouth only to realize that he was smiling into hers in return.

Draco finally broke their kiss long enough to shift their position on the sofa. He was now in an actual upright sitting position, his feet firmly on the floor. Hermione took another deep breath and flung her leg over Draco's lap, resting her bum on Draco's thighs. Hermione looked into Draco's eyes and smiled. He smiled back and kissed her gently several times before resuming their heavy snog.

Draco kissed Hermione deeply, the passion in his blood circulating to one single area of his body. He tried to keep his mind only on kissing Hermione and nothing _other_ than kissing Hermione, but it didn't help. Draco could feel his body tightening, feel himself growing hard.

Hermione herself tried not to let her mind wander. She found herself succeeding in this task until she felt Draco's body stiffen beneath her. She tried to ignore her own growing passion, but the blood in her veins was beginning to heat. Her mind was brought back to Draco when she felt one of his hands move to her stomach, reaching under the hem of her shirt so as to rest on her bare skin. Hermione pulled her face away from Draco's, her fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt. She undid them slowly, one by one, until finally they were all unhooked. She pushed his shirt back to expose his pale chest. Hermione's eyes followed her hands down his body, taking him in.

Draco's body was something worth looking at. He clearly hadn't wasted most of his time working out, but he was definitely toned enough to show his efforts. Hermione dragged a finger down Draco's chest to his stomach, resting on his belt. She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned forward, kissing Draco's mouth again. She could feel his own hands as they did their own exploring. Across her stomach, up and down her sides and ribcage, leaving a trail of goosebumps as his fingers made their way up to the silky fabric of Hermione's bra.

Hermione gasped when Draco rubbed the pads of his thumbs across the bottom of her breasts, teasing her body. She deepened the kiss further, giving Draco the permission he needed to go farther in his roaming.

Draco had every intent to continue his exploration of Hermione's body, and he wanted more than anything else right now to do so and to have her explore his own, but he heard something from across the room. Breaking their kiss, Draco looked over Hermione's shoulders to where Scorpius was tossing and turning on the armchair. Hermione turned her own head to see what Draco was looking at, and she let out a small yelp when she saw Scorpius, remembering now about the child sleeping only a few feet away. Hermione quickly pulled herself off Draco's lap and sat beside Draco on the sofa.

Draco looked at Hermione, an awkward feeling filling the air between them. Hermione straightened her shirt and pushed her hair behind her head, pulling it behind her shoulders and securing it loosely into the ponytail holder on her wrist. She watched Draco stand up and move to his son, scooping the small boy up in his arms and carrying him upstairs. Hermione took a long, deep breath, letting it out as slowly as she possibly could.

Standing on wobbly legs, Hermione followed Draco and Scorpius upstairs, finding Draco in Scorpius's room, turning the boy's shirt around the right way. Hermione leaned against the door frame and watched as Draco tucked Scorpius in for the night. She thought it so...tender the way Draco kissed the top of Scorpius's head before leaving.

Hermione backed up a couple of steps into the hallway to allow room for Draco, the door closing behind him. The two stood in the hallway for what seemed an eternity, neither knowing what to say to the other that wouldn't be completely wrong for this moment.

Draco looked at Hermione, waiting for her to say something, anything. And then she looked at him, her eyes full and bright, her shirt slightly askew despite trying to right it. He couldn't help himself. Draco closed the foot between them and kissed Hermione deeply, his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer to his body.


End file.
